The Grace of Wolves
by SWWoman
Summary: The latest in the Wolf Series. As Taylor adjusts to his new status as a member of the team, Control becomes desperate to find the missing Machine and it's creator. She will stop at nothing, including harming the innocent, to achieve her goal.
1. Chapter 1

**The Wolves are back! Thanks to everyone who has been PMing me asking about them. I really appreciate your interest, you all helped keep me going!**

 **I also need to thank my beta carolinagirl919 for taking the time out of her busy life to read this over and correct my mistakes. Lord knows I make a lot of them.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 Fight Club**

In the basement gym in one of Finch's many safe houses, Taylor stared across the mat at his mother, sizing her up as a sparring opponent for the first time in his life. She wasn't very tall, 5' 4" at most, which meant she only came up to about his chin. He had the advantage of reach and size on her. He had been watching Shaw and John spar, he knew the moves. While Shaw was extremely fast and agile, John was bigger, stronger and had a longer reach, so he won most of the rounds. Taylor figured his match with his mother should go the same way. This shouldn't be too tough; no wonder John had picked his own mother for his sparring partner his first time out.

Joss smiled at him. Taylor returned the smile and hoped he didn't accidentally hurt her.

Wearing only a pair of running shorts, John Reese stood in the middle of the mat, a light sheen of sweat covering his body from his earlier match with Shaw. He looked at each one of the combatants in turn.

"Ready?" he asked. They both nodded. "Then GO!" He stepped off the mat out of the way.

Joss and Taylor slowly approached each other. Taylor was careful to keep himself balanced on the balls of his feet and keep his center of gravity low as he had been taught by John and Shaw.

By contrast, Joss approached him almost casually, as if she was out for a stroll. There was no readiness in her stance that Taylor could see. She was even still smiling at him.

Deciding he was close enough and that his mother was unprepared for his attack, Taylor lunged at her. She ducked to one side and spun away under his arm, her speed catching him off guard. To add insult to injury, she gave him a swift kick in the butt as he went by; causing him to do a face plant into the mat. He went down hard.

Shaw, watching from the weight bench snorted, but a dirty look from her Alpha prevented her from making any of her usual derogatory comments.

Taylor, irritated with himself now for making such a basic mistake, climbed to his feet and turned towards his mother who was now standing in the center of the mat, still smiling. Taylor approached her carefully this time, determined to not make the same mistake again.

He didn't; he made a different mistake.

This time he was able to lay a hand on her, but he let his center of gravity get too high. So when Joss dropped and rolled while hanging onto his arm, he was flipped over her in rather spectacular fashion. He landed flat on his back and everyone in the gym heard his grunt of surprise as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

"You alright?" John asked the teen as he lay on his back panting for air.

"John, I just got my ass handed to me by my own _mother_. No, I'm not alright," Taylor shot back when he was finally able to speak.

Shaw snickered from her perch on the weight bench. "You're lucky, kid. First time I sparred with Hersh he broke my arm to teach me a lesson."

"What lesson was that? That he was an asshole?" Taylor snapped as he gingerly rolled over and climbed to his feet.

"Pretty much," Shaw said as she resumed her arm curls.

"You want to go again, baby?" Joss asked sweetly.

Taylor rotated his shoulder and grimaced. "Give me a minute here," he sighed.

Joss grinned evilly at him. "Just remember this next time you decide to break curfew."

* * *

Control looked up as Analyst Jacques Legault entered the plush office. She frowned as she caught a glimpse of the cocky smile on his face, his white teeth showing up brightly in contrast to his dark skin. Some days she wanted to slap that grin right off his face.

But Legault was good, very good. He wasn't much to look at. He was thin, bordering on scrawny, with large think glasses that made him look rather owlish, and he had a slow southern drawl left over from his childhood in New Orleans. However, Legault was the best investigator the intelligence service had right now. Legault's ability to connect disparate and seemingly unrelated dots meant that Control would tolerate his cockiness as long as he was useful to her.

"Ma'am," Legault nodded.

Control inclined her head in acknowledgment. "What do you have for me, Legault?"

Legault laid the folder he was carrying on her desk in front of her and flipped it open to reveal a photo of a middle aged man with spiky hair, thick glasses, and a striped tie knotted neatly at his throat.

Control snorted. "Who's the dweeb?"

"Harold Martin, former employee of IFT. I believe he is the man who created The Machine."

Control raised an eyebrow at her minion. "It wasn't Nathan Ingram?"

Legault shook his head. "Weeks and Corwin never believed that Ingram had the smarts to develop something so revolutionary. They always felt he was just the face man, but the real genius was kept hidden for reasons unknown."

Control leaned back in her chair and regarded Legault. During the development of The Machine, Weeks and the Special Counsel had briefed her frequently on its progress. They had felt Ingram had been holding something back, that there were more people who might know about The Machine than he let on, but their investigation turned up nothing. There had been rumors for years that Ingram had a silent partner in founding IFT, but Ingram had been adamant that there was no one else. That son of a bitch had lied; it all made sense now.

"Tell me," she ordered impatiently.

"After The Machine vanished from the Oregon facility, I didn't have a lot to go on since Hersh was so fast on the trigger and killed the operator before he could be interrogated."

Control pressed her lips together in a thin line. Hersh was her man; he didn't take a crap without her OK. He had been following orders, her orders, to leave no witnesses behind. She knew now that order had been a mistake, but that didn't mean she had to like having her mistake pointed out to her.

"I decided to go back to the creator, or the person we had previously thought was the creator. After studying Ingram for a while, I was sure that Corwin and Weeks were right; Ingram could not have possibly built the machine on his own. He was a good engineer, but not a great one. The person who built the machine wasn't just great, they were revolutionary. So then the question was, who _really_ built the Machine?"

"You think it was the nerd here?" Control tapped the picture in front of her.

Legault nodded. "If you will recall, when Ingram approached us about building the Machine, Special Counsel insisted that they get rid of any non-essential IFT personal before development could begin. Harold Martin was one of the few employees that remained after IFT purged most of the payroll."

Control folded her arms, frowning. "I need more evidence than that," she sniffed.

"There is more, Ma'am. We broke into Ingram's Manhattan home, now owned by his son Will who spends most of his time out of the country on some hippie dippy save the world crusade. We found photographs of Ingram with this man dating back to Ingram's undergrad days at MIT.

"We also studied the security camera footage from the ferry dock the day you ordered Ingram's assassination. Martin was with him on the boat."

Control glared down at the picture. "So this is the silent partner in IFT. We always knew there was someone, but we could never figure out whom."

"Most likely. But there is a catch…" Control glared at the man across the desk from her, and Legault swallowed. "Harold Martin doesn't exist," he said.

"Don't toy with me, Legault," Control snapped.

"Believe me, Ma'am I know better than THAT," Legault said. "It's just that the only records we can find of Martin are his employment records at IFT, and even there the information appears to have been scrubbed. We could find no driver's license, no bank records, no student records at MIT. Harold Martin only existed inside the walls of IFT with one exception."

Control sighed. "And that was…?"

"A memorial service after the ferry bombing, organized by a woman claiming to be his fiancée. Grace Hendricks identified several of Martin's personal affects that were fished out of the water, but there was no body."

"A lot of bodies weren't found. How can you be sure Martin is still alive?"

"Hersh saw him at the facility in Oregon, in the empty server room. He was in the company of that hacker chick Root, Hersh's ex-agent Sameen Shaw and Mark Snow's ex-agent John Reese."

Control looked like she had been sucking on lemons. The fact that not one but two agents she had ordered "retired" were still alive stuck in her craw. "Interesting company. Good work, Legault."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I believe that finding Harold Martin is the key to finding the Machine."

"It's the best lead we have so far. How do we find the wayward geek?"

Legault flipped a few pages in the file until he found a picture of a smiling, red haired woman. "The fiancée, she's the key. If we go after her, we can flush Martin out."

Control nodded. "Thank you, Legault. Be prepared to give Hersh a detailed briefing in an hour."

"Yes ma'am." Legault picked up the file and left the office.

Once outside the office, Legault dropped all pretense of cockiness and sagged against the wall in the hallway while he tried to calm his racing pulse. Frankly, Control scared the crap out of him. He had unfettered access to the nation's most secret files and in the course of his job over the last several years he had pieced together the sordid story of Control's rise to the top.

Control was, to put it bluntly, vicious and smart‒ a deadly combination. She had risen to the top intelligence job in the United States after 9/11 because she was so willing to pull the trigger. And the men in charge, reeling in shock from the intelligence failures that lead to that dark day, thought that a cold-blooded, die-hard patriot was exactly what they needed to counteract the threat to America they had previously disregarded.

As it turned out, Control was a lot worse than they realized. Once she was in the top slot, she had swiftly eliminated anyone she considered competition, using her faithful attack dog George Hersh. She ruled the intelligence services with an unforgiving hand. Failure to carry out a mission meant death. Knowledge she didn't want you to have meant death. Challenging her authority meant death. Asking questions she didn't want asked meant death. Control was the living embodiment of the old saying, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." She had developed a God Complex, convinced that she was the only thing standing between the USA and anarchy.

And woe to anyone who tried to challenge her hold on the top spot in the intelligence services. Control was a modern day J. Edgar Hoover; she had the dirt on _everyone_. Every time a politician challenged her power, she would smack them down by releasing their most intimate secrets. If they didn't have any juicy skeletons in their closet, they met with an unfortunate "accident".

Control was untouchable and everyone in DC knew it.

By Legault's count, after a decade and a half in bloody power, Control's body count wasn't running very far behind Al Qaida's. The problem was Control, just like Al Qaida, honestly thought she was doing everything for the greater good. There was no reasoning with a True Believer.

Legault was fully aware that very few people who had ever known about The Machine were still alive. Renegade hacker Root had killed Denton Weeks and Alicia Corwin, but everyone else who knew the secret had been murdered by Hersh on orders from Ma'am. Legault was pretty sure Hersh would have gotten around to Weeks and Corwin eventually; Root had simply saved him the trouble. Knowing about The Machine was hazardous to one's health.

Legault knew that the clock was slowly ticking down on his own life. He had to find a way out before his time was up. Legault was trapped like a mouse in one of those glue traps and if he thought about it too much, he had a panic attack. Right now he was living off antacids during the day and sleeping pills at night.

However, Legault had a plan. With his usual methodical thoroughness, he had carefully researched and planned his escape from Control and his certain death. He had set the plan in motion, now it was up to "Harold Martin" and his team to execute it.


	2. Chapter 2

**So one more chapter of set up and then we get into the new case in Chapter 3.**

 **The fic is done and betaed, so I will be keeping to my normal posting schedule of Monday-Wednesday-Friday.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Grace**

A few days later after the training session in the safe house basement, Joss was taking Cali out for a walk in the stroller when she spied a familiar pair up ahead. Smiling, she hurried to catch up with them.

"Hey, Harold," she said as she caught up to Harold Finch and Bear. Her hand reached out to give Bear a welcoming ear scratch and the dog happily wagged his tail in greeting before he gave Cali a welcoming slurp as well. Cali giggled happily and patted the dog on the nose.

Finch smiled over at her. "Good afternoon, Detective. I'm taking Bear to the dog park, would you care to join us?"

Joss nodded. "Sure, Cali will enjoy that. Since you're not at HQ, may I assume the latest case is wrapped up?"

Finch nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, Mr. Reese returned the child to her parents a just a few minutes ago and got them on the next plane to Chicago. He's driving back from JFK now; you should have him home for dinner tonight. There is no new number, and I don't expect one until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

Joss's smile grew bigger. "That is good news! Thanks!" Having John home for an entire evening was a rare treat.

Harold grinned at her. "You're welcome. Enjoy your evening with your mate."

Suddenly Harold's phone began to buzz. He looked down at it and froze. His face had a panicked expression on it and he looked around frantically. Joss discreetly reached under her jacket to pop the strap that held her gun in its holster under her left arm.

"That won't be needed, Detective," Finch hissed and handed her Bear's leash. "I'll be right back." He swiftly ducked into the bakery nearby, leaving a very puzzled Joss standing on the sidewalk. Even Bear and Cali looked perplexed by Finch's odd behavior. Joss pretended to be studying the cakes in the window, but she kept her eyes on Harold, watching him like a hawk, trying to figure out just what had upset him so badly.

She got her answer a few minutes later when woman with vibrant red hair and carrying an artist's portfolio case hurried by. Joss watched as Harold's eyes followed her and the expression of longing on his face made her heart hurt in her chest. Now she understood; she recognized the woman as Grace Hendricks, Harold's fiancée.

After Grace had passed by, Harold slowly emerged from the bakery, looking broken down and heartbroken. Joss felt a tightness in her chest. She felt guilty for being so happy with John while dear, sweet Harold was pining for his beloved Grace.

Finch stared morosely down the street where Grace had vanished into the crowd for a minute and then finally spoke. "Would you mind taking Bear to the park for me? I don't feel well."

Joss firmly handed Finch the leash and grabbed his other hand in her own. "Yes, Harold I do mind. You are coming with us. Broken hearts are not healed by crawling into a hole. Trust me, I know."

"So you know my …history?" Finch asked, grateful that he did not have to tell it.

"John told me. That woman was Grace, your fiancée. The woman you left behind when you went underground."

Harold hung his head. "I had no choice," his voice was so soft she barely heard him.

They reached the park and let Bear off his leash. He happily ran around sniffing every bush, tree, and blade of grass while Harold and Joss watched. Bear then joined a game of chase with a Golden Retriever and a Husky while Joss and Harold settled on a nearby bench. Joss let Cali out of the stroller to toddle around while she kept an eagle eye on her offspring.

"Harold, have you ever considered letting Grace know you're alive?" Joss asked as she watched Cali sit down and start pulling up grass blades.

"No. I won't put her in danger," Finch said firmly. "Everyone who knew about the machine back then is dead now except for me, and I did not emerge unscathed." Finch indicated his injured leg with a wave of his hand.

"You created the Machine in several years ago, maybe the danger has passed. Maybe they think everyone who knows is dead so they stopped looking."

"I can't take that chance, Jocelyn."

Just then Bear shot by, followed closely by the Retriever and the Husky. Joss laughed at the canine antics, but her laughter was abruptly cut off when she looked over at Harold and saw his broken heart clearly written on his face. Even Cali seemed to sense something was wrong with her beloved Uncle Harold and stopped decimating the lawn to stare at him with large blue eyes.

Joss took Harold's hand in her own and squeezed gently. "I'm sorry, Harold, I didn't want to hurt you. It's just that I have John in my life because of you and I owe you so much. I just want you to be happy, too. You deserve it."

"Detective, I made my peace with my decision a long time ago. Grace deserves her life. I have no right to ask her to leave it behind to hide in the shadows with me."

"Not just a life of hiding," Joss pointed out. "You love her and according to John she loved you too. There would be danger, sure, but there would be plenty of love. That makes up for a lot. I know."

Finch sighed. "I'm not the man I was, Detective."

Joss stared at Finch for a moment and then finally said, "What exactly do you mean by 'not the man you were'?"

Finch took a deep breath. "I used to love to run, but now I can barely walk. This leg," he indicated his injured leg, "has more scar tissue than healthy tissue. I have fused vertebrae. I live with pain every day. Grace knew me when I was healthy; I would prefer she remember me that way."

Joss didn't say anything for a while. She sat quietly and watched as Cali resumed tearing up blades of grass and Bear romped with his canine companions. Finally she spoke, "Harold, do you know why I love John so much?"

Finch was caught off balance by the change of subject. "I don't believe we have ever discussed the topic."

Joss tapped her chest. "It's his big unselfish heart, Harold. He loves each and every number you help. He has been to hell and back. He spent his entire adult life working to protect his country and they repaid him with a missile from an A-10. But yet he still has this incredible capacity for love and caring. The depth of his caring awes me sometimes. All the evil he has seen and he still cares." Joss paused to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "I would love him even if he were disfigured or disabled," she said fiercely.

Harold turned his body to look at her and he laid his hand over hers. "I'm glad John found you."

Joss smiled at him. "I am too Harold, despite everything we've been through together. And I suspect Grace would feel the same way I do. Don't you think she deserves to make the choice for herself?"

Harold shifted uncomfortably. "What am I going to say to her? Sorry I let you think I was dead for several years, but it was for your own good?"

Joss gave him a tiny smile. "That might be a good start."

Finch looked down at his hands in his lap. "I'm sure she has moved on by now."

"What if she hasn't?"

Harold looked over at Joss with a fond smile. "Detective, your persistence is exhausting."

Joss shrugged. "Occupational hazard. Promise you'll think about it."

Harold sighed and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "I promise."

Cali got to her feet and toddled to her Uncle Harold, bringing their conversation to an end. Finch picked the child up and gave her his full attention. Joss, however, was not ready to let the subject drop so easily and a plan began forming in her mind.

* * *

Grace Hendricks peeked around her easel, dabbed more paint on the canvas in front of her and then sat back to inspect her work. She was very pleased with how this picture turned out; she had a feeling that this was the cover for a future issue of _Burroughs_ magazine. She sighed, if only Harold where still alive to see how successful she had become, he had always believed in her talent.

Grace firmly pushed thoughts of dear Harold out her mind. She had been grieving him for too long now. Aside from her professional contacts, she had not been getting out much since the ferry bombing had destroyed the life she had built with her beloved. Grace was shy and introverted, so making friends was tough for her. She had closed herself off after she had lost him and had limited her socializing to family members who had often expressed concern about her solitary ways. They told her it was high time she resumed her life, that she needed to get out more, and Grace was coming to the conclusion that they were right. But it was hard for her…

"Oh, that's lovely!"

Grace turned to see a pretty black woman of average height standing there looking at the canvas with a friendly smile on her face. Grace responded with a smile of her own. "Thank you!"

The woman shook head. "I don't know how you artists do it; I can't draw a circle."

Grace grinned, she wasn't sure why, but she instantly liked this woman. "Lots of training, I guess. I love it though." The she noticed that the woman was wearing a NYPD badge on her hip and a holster peeking out from her jacket. "You're a police officer?" she queried politely.

The woman extended her hand with a dazzling smile. "Detective Jocelyn Carter at your service."

Grace took the woman's hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Grace Hendricks. So happy to meet you." Grace let go of Jocelyn's hand and began packing up her supplies.

"Are you done?" Jocelyn asked curiously.

Grace nodded. "The light is fading, and it's cold. It's time to get something warm to drink."

"It _is_ cold out here," Jocelyn agreed. "Tell you what; my favorite coffee shop is right by the park entrance. I'll buy you a cup."

"That sounds lovely!" Grace said happily. Jocelyn helped her carry her supplies to the coffee shop while they chatted amiably. It had been a long time since she had lost her fiancée and it was time she started getting out and making friends. This friendly woman with the gorgeous smile and kind eyes seemed like a good place to start.

* * *

Later that evening, Joss strolled up to a big black car discretely parked on a Brooklyn street and slipped into the passenger seat.

John glanced over as she climbed into the car next to him and grinned when she handed him a paper sack. "It's from your favorite deli," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Tell me it's a Rueben," John said.

"Of course," Joss said with a smirk as she cracked open a bottle of water and passed it to her mate. "How's our latest number?"

John took a bite out his favorite sandwich and swallowed it down, followed by a swig of the bottled water. "Boring so far. How did it go with Grace earlier?"

"Good. Grace is very sweet and cultured; I can see why Harold loves her so much. I like her a lot." Joss paused for minute. "She still misses him."

John shrugged. "She lost him in a sudden traumatic event, I'm not surprised. I know how that feels."

Joss rubbed his arm, knowing he was thinking of Jessica and his downward spiral after her death. John gave her a grateful, loving look and she squeezed his hand.

"She's a very gentle soul, I can see why Harold didn't want to bring her underground with him," Joss mused.

John swallowed the bite he had been chewing and took another swig from his water bottle. "Don't count her out yet, I've seen some of those sweet gentle souls often turn into tigers when their loved ones are threatened."

"Oh I know," Joss said quietly as she watched her mate polish off the sandwich. "I've seen it enough myself."

John finished the water and set the empty bottle down in the cup holder at his elbow. "So what's your next step?"

Joss took a sip from her own water bottle. "Grace and I will being going to lunch next week. I think she's lonely and needs a friend. I'm going to be that friend. I'll feel her out some more, and then if I think she can handle it, I'll try to convince Harold to approach her."

"What if she can't handle it?" John asked quietly.

Joss squeezed her mate's hand again. "I'll keep on with the friendship, at least that way I can keep an eye on her for Harold."

They both froze was they watched a shadowy figure make their way down the street towards their number's home.

"Showtime," John grunted as he slipped from the car.

"Right behind you," Joss said as she drew her weapon and followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: New Number**

Finch was on his morning walk with Bear when he got the phone call from the Machine. As soon as he hung up, he and Bear made their way back to the Library and he immediately began the process of assembling the number. A quick glance at the clock told him that John and Sameen would be arriving soon.

Humming with satisfaction, he input the number and waited for the information to appear on the screen. The picture that appeared was like a punch to his gut; Finch felt the bile rise in his throat and he struggled to breathe.

John chose that moment to stroll into the computer room, carrying his usual box of donuts and a drink carrier with two coffees and a sencha green tea. Initially oblivious to Finch's distress, he paused to scratch Bear's ears while idly chatting.

"Hope you feel like apple fritters today. The bakery around the corner was just taking them out of the fryer when I got there and they smelled so good…Finch?" John stopped to finally notice his friend sitting there just staring at the screen.

John covered the ground to Finch's desk in two long strides. He looked at the screen and sucked in his breath with a hiss when he saw Grace Hendricks's picture smiling back at him. "It'll be OK, Finch. We won't let anything happen to her," he reassured his friend.

"This is my fault," he said, his voice shaking. "They're going after her because of me. Because of the Machine."

John gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You don't know that yet."

Finch could only give John one of saddest looks he had ever seen. "Grace leads a very quiet life; what else could it be?"

John's manner changed to operative mode. "Finch, I need to you get it together. Do your usual. Go through her phone records and see who she has talked to, check out her social media accounts, all your normal activities when we get a number. I'll go get eyes on her; we will _not_ let her get hurt."

He strode towards the exit, calling over his shoulder as he walked, "Call Shaw, have her meet me at Washington Square Park."

* * *

John was sitting on a bench in the park across the street from Grace's townhouse when Shaw found him.

"What the heck is going on?" she snapped as she flopped down next to him. "Finch was awfully terse when he called me." She lowered her voice in a poor imitation of Finch's voice. "Ms. Shaw, please meet Mr. Reese in Washington Square Park. We have a situation."

Reese glanced over at her and then back to the front door of Grace's home. "We're not sure yet, but it seems your friends at Northern Lights are up to their old tricks."

Shaw grunted in a most unladylike fashion. "I may have a personality disorder, but I know the Northern Lights goons are _not_ my friends. Last time I checked, friends don't try to kill each other."

"You tried to kill me," John pointed out.

"You weren't my friend at the time. Besides, I got over it." Shaw stretched and yawned loudly. "What's up?"

John didn't take his eyes off the Grace's home across the street. "We have a new number, Finch's former fiancée."

"Former? As in before he 'died'?"

"Exactly."

Shaw frowned. "Do you think it's because she knew Finch?"

John shrugged. "Grace lives a very quiet life."

John's attention was drawn to the front door as it opened and Grace stepped out and began watering the planter on the doorstep. "There she is," he said jerking his head in Grace's direction.

"The red head?"

"Yes, that's Grace Hendricks."

Shaw grunted. "Good looking gal. Finch has good taste."

John gave her a smirk. "I'll be sure to tell him you approve."

"I heard," Finch barked into their earpieces. "I am pleased that you think Grace is pretty, however we have another problem. Agent Hersh just arrived in New York on the DC shuttle."

Shaw shrugged. "That doesn't prove anything. We did a lot of work in New York. It's Terror Central."

Finch sighed. "I would feel better if one of you would get eyes on the agent."

"He's right," John agreed. Three rounds of rock-paper-scissors later, John was on his way to JFK to intercept the Northern Lights operative while Shaw grouchily remained slumped on the bench across the street from Grace's home.

About an hour later, Joss walked up holding two cups of coffee and handed one to Shaw with a smile. "Thought you could use this."

"Nectar of the Gods!" Shaw whooped. "I never get enough coffee."

"I know you," Joss grinned. She also gave Shaw a paper bag. "Breakfast burrito from Cruz's."

"My savior! I'm starving!" Shaw tore into the burrito with her usual gusto and lack of manners while Joss sat next to her, quietly sipping her own coffee.

Shaw finished her burrito and happily licked her fingers. Joss offered her a napkin, but she waved it away. "Don't need it."

Joss rolled her eyes but didn't say a word.

A few minutes later, Shaw turned to Joss. "When do you need to get to the precinct?"

Joss checked her watch. "Fusco and I are working swing shift this week, so I have a few hours. Cali's with the nanny. I can hang out here for a while longer if you need me."

Shaw got her feet. "If you don't mind watching Grace, I need to stretch my legs. There's a Northern Lights safe house a couple of blocks over. Thought I might go see if I can snag one of their operatives for little chat. You know, catch up with old friends, see what they've doing since I last saw them." Shaw's smile was positively Wolfish.

"Sounds like a good idea," Joss said placidly. "Bring me another coffee on your way back."

"No problem, Alpha." Shaw gave Joss a mocking salute.

"Get out of here," Joss playfully growled at her pack mate, dismissing Shaw with a wave of her hand.

Whistling cheerfully, Shaw headed off down the street.

* * *

John lurked outside of the office building he recognized from the Henry Peck case as a CIA station. Hersh had entered the building an hour ago and John had no idea what was going on in there. Hersh's phone had the latest anti-blue jacking software that was so good even Finch hadn't been able to hack it, yet. He suspected that Hersh and several of the local operatives were devising a plan to kidnap Grace and find Finch, but he was flying blind. All he could do was follow Control's man and hope he wasn't spotted.

John watched as Hersh finally emerged from the building with several other agents. They all took off in different directions, while John growled in frustration. He was unable to follow all of them, so he decided to stay with Hersh.

* * *

Joss was actually enjoying sunning herself on the bench. As a mother, cop and Alpha, she had very few minutes to herself, so it was a luxury for her to sit in the warm autumn sunshine and sip her coffee. She reveled in the peace and quiet, for all of the thirteen minutes she had. Shaw had not been gone very long before Joss observed a man wearing the standard dark suit/white shirt uniform of the intelligence services knock on Grace's door.

Joss was already up and moving when Grace opened the door and the man shoved his way inside. "Sam, get back here, they're making a move on Grace!" Joss shouted as she dashed across the street, dodging honking cars and swearing motorists.

Joss didn't even wait to hear Shaw's reply before she morphed into Wolf form as she ran up Grace's walkway. She threw herself against the front to door, which gave way under her momentum. Joss landed hard on her side but rolled to her feet to see the operative wrestling with Grace as he tried to stick a needle in her neck. Grace fought with everything she had, but she was no match for the Northern Lights man. In a flash, Joss was across the room and sank her ivory teeth in the operative's wrist.

The man swore, dropping Grace and the needle, to focus his attention on the She Wolf. He swung his fist trying to connect with Joss's muzzle but she easily dodged the blow and he missed, leaving himself off-balance. Joss maintained her hold on his wrist, braced her paws and jerked her head, sending him face first into the wall, leaving a sizable hole in the sheet rock.

Joss let go and moved between the man and Grace, but the man was in no condition to fight anymore. He groaned and flailed helplessly as he tried to get his feet under him.

It was at this point Shaw burst in. She walked over to the man as he struggled, flipped him over and smashed him across the face with the butt of her gun. He lay still after that. "Like a boss," Shaw grunted in satisfaction as she tucked her gun away in her pocket.

Joss morphed back to human. "Do you recognize him?" she asked Shaw.

Shaw nodded, "Yeah, he's Northern Lights, and a total douche. I hope you didn't catch a disease when you bit him."

"Looks like you'll get that chat with an old friend after all," Joss said wryly.

"Um, Joss?"

Joss and Shaw both turned to see a wide eyed Grace twisting the hem of her shirt into knots wheil she shifted her weight back and forth. "You didn't tell me you were Wolf."

Shaw looked at her incredulously. "A guy breaks into your house, tries to drug and kidnap you and _that's_ what you're focusing on?"

Grace glared at Shaw. "The guy is out cold and my friend is standing naked in my living room."

Joss shot Shaw a dirty look to shut her up. "I'm sorry, it just never came up with conversation."

"What's going on? Why was that man here?" Grace asked in a tiny scared voice.

Joss gave Grace her most reassuring smile. "Police business. I'll answer all your questions in a few minutes, but do you have some clothes I could borrow?"

Grace gave her a tiny nod and left the room. Joss turned back to Shaw. "I have to get Grace to a safe house, can you handle your old buddy here solo?"

"No prob. Get out of here."

Grace was slightly taller than Joss and not quite as curvy as the She Wolf, but she had a pair of yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt that worked well enough. Joss gave Grace a few minutes to pack some clothes and then they left the house, leaving Shaw alone with the Northern Lights agent.

* * *

 **As you can probably guess, things will not go well for that agent in my next chapter, coming Monday. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed; reviews are pure motivation for us writers and every one helps keep me going. I've tried to respond to everyone who has a log in, but I can't thank the Guest reviewers personally. However, I do have a couple of Guests that I would like to respond to.**

 **First off to Karen, who was disappointed that this fic has elements of the supernatural in it. This is part of a series I have been writing for the last few years that has generated very positive feedback; any of my fics that have "Wolves" in the title is part of this series. I modified the story description to make this clear so hopefully there are no more disappointments. I hope you will continue to read and give it chance, I frequently get comments from people who tell me they generally don't like supernatural fiction but they do enjoy my Wolf series.**

 **Next to opheliablack who asked about Joss's clothes after her transformation. The Wolves in my fics are larger than the standard wolves, more people-sized than dog-sized. They are also proportioned differently than their human forms, so when one of them morphs with their clothes on, buttons and zippers pop, and seams rip. The clothes are usually too trashed to wear again. Hope that makes sense. Thank you for your reviews!**

 **Now onto the story!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Safe House**

The Northern Lights operative glared at Shaw over the top of the gag she had improvised out of one of Grace's favorite tea towels. He could remember being attacked by a black Wolf, but nothing after that. He woke up duct taped to a kitchen chair with a ridiculously tiny woman sitting across the table from him chowing down on chips and salsa.

Shaw glanced up and noticed that her prisoner was awake. "Sorry, Grace had my favorite brand in the fridge and I couldn't resist. She probably won't be coming back here, so I couldn't let it go to waste." She popped another chip overloaded with salsa in her mouth, leaving a trail of salsa drippings on the table. "Let's get this show on the road."

Shaw stood up and walked to the knife block sitting on the counter. She pulled a rather large knife out and tested the edge with her thumb. She nodded her approval. She looked over at the man struggling against the duct tape in the chair with a wolfish grin. "Grace keeps her knives sharp," she purred in a menacing tone.

The prisoner could only glare to her in contempt, but that only made her grin wider. She loved this.

She resumed her seat across from the operative placing the knife on the table between them where he could plainly see it. She took another bite of chip with a huge chunk of salsa and chewed slowly while she stared at Grace's would-be-kidnapper. Finally, she swallowed her mouthful and pulled the gag out of her captive's mouth.

"Let's start with the easy questions. Wanna tell me why Northern Lights is interested in Grace Hendricks?"

"Never heard of Northern Lights," the man spat at her.

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Sameen Shaw, former _Northern Lights_ operative. I separated from the program when they killed my partner and tried to kill me. They failed. So don't play dumb, it annoys me."

"You can't be Sameen Shaw, she's dead!" The man snapped.

Shaw grinned her Wolfish looking grin. "What's the saying? Oh yeah, reports of my demise are greatly exaggerated." Her grin got a bit wider as she thought of how proud Finch would be of her for remembering the quote; then she took the last bite of salsa and sighed. "Damn, I'm all out. Now I'm cranky."

Without warning she snatched up the knife and stabbed her prisoner's immobilized hand clean through, pinning it to the arm of the chair. The surprised operative screamed in pain while Shaw watched with her usual impassive face. "Now let's talk," she said, her voice dripping with menace

* * *

A few hours later, Shaw emerged from the cozy little house and strolled casually down the street. She tapped her ear piece, "Hey Finch."

"Miss Shaw, how kind of you to check in. Did you get any information from the man Detective Carter caught breaking into Grace's home?"

"Not very much, he's pretty low level. All he knew was that he was supposed to take her to the black site in Westchester County where she was to be interrogated and held. My guess is that they were going to grill her on you and the Machine and then hang onto her until you surfaced. Once they got what they wanted from you, they would have killed you both."

Finch closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves. "Thank you Ms. Shaw. Please join Mr. Reese as soon as you can."

* * *

Hersh approached the Hendricks house cautiously. His man never returned from the ridiculously simple assignment of grabbing one untrained and unremarkable middle aged woman, and there was no telling why. He paused across the street observing the house, but nothing seemed out of place.

He crossed the street, appearing to the casual observer to be a business man returning home after a busy day. He found the door unlocked and walked into the home. He heard a noise from the kitchen and to his disgust found his man duct-taped to a chair, covered in numerous superficial cuts designed to cause maximum pain while keeping the prisoner alive.

"What happened?" He growled at the helpless operative.

"She said her name was Sameen Shaw," was all the operative could say before Hersh drew his gun and placed a bullet neatly in the center of the man's forehead.

"Great, _Shaw,_ " Hersh snorted in disgust as he looked at the empty salsa jar and chips bag sitting on the table. He turned and left the house without a backward glance at the corpse of his former employee.

As he walked down the street in the direction of the Northern Lights safe house only a few blocks away, he pulled out his phone. "Legault," he snapped without preamble when Legault answered, "Martin knows we're looking for him and he beat us to the woman. We need another plan."

Legault smiled to himself. He had anticipated that, so far everything was coming together exactly as he thought it would, but he kept the triumph out of his voice as he spoke to Hersh. "I've been able to find a few sites that may be linked to Martin and Hendricks. I'll send the list."

"Make it fast," Hersh snarled.

"Don't get nasty with me, I'm not the one who lost an ordinary woman," Legault drawled. "You had ONE job..." He was enjoying this too much.

Hersh hung up on him. "God, I hope I get to kill that little shit soon," he grumbled.

John stood across the street, hidden in the shadows of a clump of trees. He had with a huge smirk on his face; he had been following Hersh all day and it pleased him to see the operative so angry. He took special glee in knowing that Hersh's man had been no match for his Joss.

Shaw slightly appeared next to him. "You made your boss mad," John commented dryly.

Shaw shrugged. "He's always that way." They watched as Hersh turned and walked rapidly down the street.

"Finch, Hersh is on the move again, we'll stay with him." With that John and Shaw vanished into the crowd on the street.

* * *

After Hersh hung up, Legault replaced the phone in its cradle with a wide grin. He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed and a small, shrill giggle escaped his lips. He had known there was a chance that Hersh could beat Harold Martin's team to the Hendricks woman. Legault, ever the meticulous planner, had a contingency plan in case that happened, but it appeared that he had judged Martin's team perfectly and Hendricks was safe. Soon he would be free.

"Jacques?"

Legualt looked up to see Control's assistant in the door to his office. She was a short, mousy looking woman, but looks could be deceiving. The unremarkable looking woman was a trained agent who had cut her husband's throat when she discovered he was having an affair and, with Control's consent, framed his lover for the murder. Legault was going to be glad to be out of this nest of vipers.

"Boss wants to see you," she said. "She wants your analysis of the Romanian problem."

"Let me grab my file and I'll be right there," he replied evenly, determined not to show the fear that gripped his heart at the summons. Every time he was called to see Control, he expected it to be his last.

She nodded and left.

Legault opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a large bottle of antacids, which was now nearly empty. He gulped two of them down and departed for Control's office.

* * *

After quick phone call to Fusco asking him to pick up Finch and meet them at the safe house, Joss guided Grace to Nathan Ingrams's former residence. Grace looked around as they entered the home.

"Where are we?" she asked.

Joss was pleased to see she was holding up well, better than she had expected actually. Grace was obviously frightened, but remained calm.

"Some place safe," Joss said. "Please sit down."

Grace moved to the couch in the sunken living room and sat down, still looking around and taking in the details of the house with an artist's eye. "Why have you brought me here?"

Joss sat down across from her. "We have been made aware of a credible threat to your life."

Grace gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "Me? But I don't understand, I'm nobody."

Joss looked at the woman in front of her as she carefully considered what she should tell her friend. She decided to go with an abridged version of the truth.

"Your fiancée was involved in a secret government project..." Joss started.

"Harold? My Harold? There has to be some mistake," Grace interrupted her. "Harold wouldn't hurt a fly!"

Joss covered Grace's hand with her own. "Not all government projects are destructive, honey. He worked on a project that helped people, but there have been some issues recently. There are some very powerful people who think you might be able to shed some light on the problem."

Grace shook her head fiercely. "No, no, Harold never told me much about his work. I think it was in computers, but I'm not even sure about that." Grace paused and took a deep breath. "That's why he never told me about his work, isn't it? Why he was so secretive?"

Joss tried her best to soothe the upset woman. "He had to be, but I promise to do everything in my power to protect you."

Grace looked scared, but Joss could see that she was trying to be brave. "Thank you, Joss."

Joss's phone buzzed and she glanced down to see the incoming call from Fusco. "I need to take this," she told Grace and then stepped into the home office. "What's up Fusco? Are you and Harold coming?"

"No we're not," Fusco grumped. "Glasses is refusing to come. Says it's too dangerous for her and he's already setting up a new identity for her in Italy."

"Oh we'll see about THAT," Joss snarled. She hung up, turned and walked towards the front door. "Grace, wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes," she said as she passed through the living room. Grace watched her go with wide eyes.

* * *

"Finch? What's going on?" Joss asked as she stormed into the library. Fusco took one look at his furious partner and took a huge step away from the computer genius.

"We have to get Grace out of the country as fast as possible. I'm working on a new identity for her now," Finch said as he typed furiously.

Joss gently laid her hand over his, forcing him to stop and look up at her. "Harold, it's time she learned the truth."

"Detective… please," an agitated Finch began, but Joss cut him off.

"Harold, I know you want to protect her, but she deserves the chance to make her own choice. Her life is already in danger and we owe her the truth. None of this is your fault. _None of it_. All we can do is protect her and give her all the options."

Finch bowed his head, unable to look Joss in the eye. Deep down inside, he knew she was right, but his heart screamed at him to protect Grace, no matter what. He wanted her far away from Northern Lights, even if that meant far away from him.

"Detective, Grace would be safer in Italy…"

"Are you NUTS?" Joss's voice sliced through the air. "You've heard Shaw's stories! Northern Lights operates all over the world. She's no safer in Europe than she is here. At least we can protect her in New York."

Finch got up from his chair and limped over to the window. He stood staring out, even though all he could see was the tarp that covered the lower half of the building. Joss stood quietly by his desk, waiting patiently for his next words.

"What if she hates me for deceiving her?" Finch's voice hitched. He turned to Joss and she could see the tears behind his glasses. "I can't live myself if she hates me."

"Have faith in her," Joss pleaded. "She still loves you."

"I lied to her for years."

"You it did for the right reasons. She'll understand. Trust her."

Finch bowed his head and Joss held her breath. "You're right Detective," he finally uttered.

Joss held out her hand. "Let's go see Grace."

Finch hesitantly reached out and took her hand. Fusco breathed an audible sigh of relief.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Second Chances**

Fusco, Joss and Finch drove to the safe house. Harold waited with Fusco outside while Joss entered the brownstone. She was surprised to see John there waiting in the living room.

He shrugged at her raised eyebrow. "Lionel thought you might need back up for this reunion and he didn't want it to be him, so he called me. Shaw's still following Hersh."

Joss sighed. "Better you than Shaw; Shaw and Grace didn't exactly hit it off."

"Besides Bear, the only person Shaw has hit it off with is you," John smirked.

"Joss!"

Joss turned to see Grace emerging from of one of the bedrooms. Grace hurried over and gave her a hug.

Joss returned the hug. "I'm so sorry about all this. But since this morning we have gotten some more information, so I think we can answer your questions now."

Grace collapsed in a chair. "Oh thank God! Please, tell me everything!"

Joss seated herself on the couch and John settled down next to her. They told her the story of the Machine, how the idea was born after 9/11, how Harold had built the super computer to prevent terror attacks, and how the Machine produced both a relevant and irrelevant list. They told her how the Machine had been sold to the government for one dollar, and how the Northern Lights program used the relevant list to stop terrorist attacks, saving many, many lives in the process. They also explained how the Machine had vanished from its secure facility and while no one knew where it had hidden itself, it was still producing the numbers.

Grace listened intently, hanging on every word that came out of their mouths. She asked intelligent questions about the legal and ethical implications of the Machine's constant surveillance and John and Joss could see she was somewhat troubled by the idea that Big Brother really was watching. They answered her questions frankly and honestly, pointing out that while the implications of the surveillance state were deeply troubling, a huge number of lives had been saved since the Machine had come online.

At the end of their story, Grace knitted her brows together in confusion. "I'm sorry I still don't see what all this has to do with me? Harold has been dead for years," her voice hitched and she swallowed. "I never knew anything about his work."

John got up and left the room as Joss leaned forward and took Grace's hands in her own. "Harold isn't dead, he's been in hiding this whole time. He hired John and Shaw to work with him to save the people on the irrelevant list, the people the government ignores. They've devoted their live to preventing bad things from happening to good people."

Grace looked like she had been gut-punched, and Joss supposed that in a way she had. "Harold's alive?" she gasped, as the tears began to fall.

"Hello, Grace." Joss looked up to see Harold standing in the doorway with John and Fusco just behind him.

Grace stared at Harold for several seconds while everyone in the room held their breaths. Then she got up, walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. She dropped her head on his shoulder and sobbed.

Joss, John and Fusco silently left the room and shut the door behind them to give Harold and Grace some privacy, but they lingered in the hallway outside in case they were needed.

Harold held Grace for several minutes while she cried on his shoulder. Finally, she was able calm down and step back. Only then was she able to whisper the question she needed to ask. "Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

Harold paused for a few minutes as if he was considering something. Then he took off his tie and vest and unbuttoned his shirt. "Do you remember what my body looked like before I disappeared?" he asked quietly.

Grace nodded as the tears ran down her face. "Of course," she whispered.

Harold took his shirt off and turned around, allowing Grace to see the ugly scars that marred his upper back and neck. Grace gasped and the tears flowed faster. "My God, Harold." She reached out and gently ran her fingers along the ugly ridges in his skin.

Harold turned slowly back around a started re-buttoning his shirt. "My right hip and leg look just as bad."

Grace closed her eyes and her hand covered her mouth. "What happened?" she whispered.

"The bomb on the ferry. Do you remember?" Harold finished buttoning his shirt.

Grace barely nodded. "How could I forget?"

"Nathan, my partner in developing the Machine, was going to talk to a reporter, and tell them all about the program; so the government set the bomb on the ferry to kill him. The rest of us were just collateral damage. They will go to any lengths to protect the secret." Harold paused and took a deep breath. "I knew then that no one associated with the Machine was ever going to be safe. So I vanished."

"I would have gone with you! Why didn't you give me a chance?" Grace cried.

Harold couldn't look at her. "I have lived my life my life since that day looking over my shoulder. I know that I cannot hide forever; I've come close to being discovered several times already. Coming with me would have been a death sentence. Unfortunately, since it seems that your association with me has become known, not coming with me right now is also a death sentence." Harold looked grim. "I hope you can forgive me. Everything I did was to protect you, to let you have a life instead of hiding in the shadows.

"You have a choice to make. You can stay with me, or I can create a new identity for you and you can move overseas. I'm so sorry Grace."

Grace couldn't answer, she was crying too hard. Harold turned stiffly and walked out of the room.

John, Joss and Fusco were standing just outside the door. "How did it go, Harold?" Joss asked laying a hand on his arm.

Harold stopped, but did not look over at her, he remained starting straight ahead. "Detective, I would appreciate it if you would check on Grace." He walked away without looking back.

Joss looked up at John with concern in her eyes. John kept his eyes glued to his friend's back. "Check on Grace, I'll handle Harold."

Joss nodded and entered the room where Grace was still crying, while John followed Harold to the kitchen. Fusco looked after John and then at the doorway where Joss had vanished. With a sigh, he decided to hide in the den and watch TV until it was time to go the precinct for his shift with Joss.

Grace looked up as Joss entered the room and furiously swiped at her tears. "I guess I know the reason you asked me all those questions about Harold now."

Joss nodded. "I'm sorry I deceived you Grace. I was trying to see how you would feel about all this before we revealed that Harold was alive. The government forced our hand before we were ready."

"Any other lies you told me I should be aware of?" Grace asked bitterly as she wiped her cheeks.

Joss smiled a little. "John is not a NYPD detective, his last name isn't Stills, and it's currently Reese."

Grace stared at Joss incredulously. "His name is 'currently Reese'?"

The corner of Joss's mouth quirked up. "He's former Special Forces and he used to be a CIA field operative, until the government tried to kill him. He's burned through a few names in the process. He has several aliases."

Grace narrowed her eyes at Joss. "What about you?"

Joss smiled. "I really am Jocelyn Carter, NYPD detective. I am John's mate. We have been together for few years now, helping people like yourself who have landed in trouble through no fault of their own."

Grace took deep breath and let her head fall back against the cushions on the chair. She was very tired and had the beginning of a headache. "So you help people by lying to them?"

Joss sat in another chair across from Grace. "Sometimes it's necessary. We will do what it takes to save lives." Joss paused, then decided to lay all the cards on the table. Grace deserved the truth.

"We've done a lot worse than lie, Grace. We've hacked people's bank accounts, we've spied on them, invaded their privacy, and bugged their homes and cars. We've broken into their homes while their backs were turned and gone through their stuff. We've planted evidence, we've forged documents. We've beaten people up, kidnapped people, and yes, killed a few bad guys. We do it for the right reasons, but we sometimes do bad things."

Grace looked at Joss for several minutes. The exhausted look on the artist's face made Joss's heart ache for the woman. This was too much, too fast, but Joss didn't see any way to soften the blow. This was not Team Machine's choice, the government had forced them all into this. All she could do for Grace right now was tell her the whole unvarnished truth and help her to understand why they did the things they did.

"Joss, you're cop, how could you do those things? You took an oath!" Grace's eyes pleaded with Joss to help her to understand.

Again Joss paused, carefully considering her next words. "As a homicide cop, I get there too late to save them. All I can do in my official capacity is get justice for the victim and hope that brings a measure of comfort to their loved ones. But the victim is still dead, and the families and friends still have a hole in their lives. Working with John and Harold, I get there _before_ they're dead. I don't have to knock on anyone's door in the middle of the night and tell them their loved one is gone forever.

"I'm not going to lie, sometimes I do feel uncomfortable with some of the things we do. When I first started this, no one was more by-the-book than I was. Some of my colleagues considered me the most uptight cop in NYC and they may well have been right. But since I started working with John and Harold I realized something. The rules don't fit every situation, and what's legal and what's right isn't often the same thing. John once told me I could have my rules or I could save lives. I've chosen to save lives. When I leave this Earth and stand in front of the Lord to be judged, I'm comfortable that I'll be able to say that everything I did helped people."

Grace looked down at her hands clasped in her lap and Joss noticed her knuckles were white. "Not very many people can say that," Grace said softly. "Was it worth it?"

"Yes." Joss said emphatically. "Looking back, the only thing I would change was the time I got John shot."

"I don't know what to do, what to say. My heart says one thing, but my head says another." Grace shifted in her seat and rubbed her eyes.

Joss gave Grace a tight little smile. "I followed my head instead of my heart once."

Grace once again swiped at the tears drying on her cheeks. "How did that work out?"

"Not good. That's when I got John shot."

* * *

John quietly followed Harold as he limped into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway as he watched his friend and employer take a box of green tea bags down from the cupboard, but his hands were shaking so badly he dropped the box.

John stepped forward and picked up the box. "Sit down, Finch. I'll get this."

Harold looked up at John, startled like he hadn't known John was there. Then He nodded and sat down at the table, burying his face in his hands.

John fixed a cup of tea in silence and set it on the table in front of Finch, but Finch made no move to take it. John touched Finch's shoulder. "Are you OK?"

Finch finally lifted his face from his hands. "I'd made peace with my decision to watch her from afar and live with my memories. I could live with that, but I can't live myself if she hates me."

John sat down. "Finch, Joss knows Grace still loves you. She just needs some time."

Finch took a shaky sip of his tea. "I hope so."

The two just sat quietly while Finch sipped his tea.

* * *

 **I hope you all like my explanation of why Joss does the things she does. She had very intriguing arc on the show, which unfortunately got cut short. I always thought she never got enough credit for how far she progressed and Taraji payed it perfectly.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fair Warning: There is Wolf action in the this chapter! *evil grin***

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Alpha Fight**

The next day found Taylor alone with Grace in the safe house. His mother and Fusco had been called in to investigate a murder related to one of their cases, so they were unavailable. Hersh had managed to give Shaw the slip the previous evening, so she and John were out scouring the city looking for Control's pet assassin. Since Finch felt like he should give Grace some room to deal with all the revelations of the previous day before he saw her again, Taylor had volunteered to stay with Grace so she wouldn't be alone. His orders from John were clear, "Watch the street and at the first sign of trouble _get out_."

"Taylor, why do you want to do this? Why pick such a dangerous job?" Grace asked. She was curled up on the couch sipping a cup of tea. She looked tired; Taylor was pretty sure she hadn't slept much the night before. His mother had briefed him on the events of yesterday and he couldn't help but feel for her. He remembered his own dramatic introduction to world of The Machine not so long ago; it was confusing, terrifying, and overwhelming all at once.

Taylor turned his attention from the window where he had been watching the street. He also had a set of secondary orders from his mother, "Answer any questions Grace asks honestly and completely." Joss understood Grace's struggle to understand the work they were doing and she wanted to be sure Grace had every opportunity to get the answers she needed.

With his mother's words still fresh in his mind, Taylor gave her a small smile and answered her question honestly. "Because I was once one of John's cases."

Grace cocked her head to one side and looked at him for a few minutes. "I don't understand," she said slowly. "What does that have to do with this?"

Taylor leaned back against the wall next to the window. "It was in my freshman year. I was kidnapped by one of the worst crime lords in the city because my mom was protecting some old mafia dons he wanted to kill. So he decided to use me a bargaining chip. They snatched me from school and killed a security guard right in front of me.

"I was scared. I thought I was gonna die and never see my mom again. I kept wishing she had kissed me goodbye that morning. I stopped letting her kiss me good bye when I started middle school because I thought I was a man and didn't need any coddling from my mother." Taylor paused and swallowed, "As the goon squad was driving me to their hideout, I was just a scared little kid who wanted his mommy again."

"Oh Taylor," Grace breathed softly. "You must have been terrified."

Taylor nodded. "Oh yeah. I sat in that warehouse just waiting to die. I even imagined my mom and my grandma crying at my funeral. I was doing my best not to cry in front of the bad guys, but damn I wanted to. I wanted to see my family and friends again. I wanted go to prom and graduate and go to college. But I was sure that I was going to die instead."

Taylor glanced out the window again. "Have you ever thought you were about to die?"

Grace shook her head with a small smile on her face. "I'm afraid I've led a very quiet life until now. I...I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. You were what, fifteen?"

Taylor nodded. "Yup, I had just turned fifteen about three weeks before."

"What happened?" Grace leaned forward in her chair, setting her mug of tea down on an end table.

"John came. He took out like four or five guys like it was nothin'. He wasn't even breathing hard. Then he and Harold drove to me to my mom."

Grace's eyes went wide. "My Harold was there?"

Taylor grinned at her. "Well he didn't come in shooting, he waited in the car, but yeah, he was there. He's a brave dude.

"But my point is, I never felt so good in my life as I did when John told me my mom sent him and he was going to take me to her. All of a sudden I was going to get do all those things I wanted to do. I had a second chance."

Taylor paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "I want to give other people that chance. I want to pay it forward, ya know?"

Grace thought for a second. "Yes I think I do. Thank you Taylor."

Taylor grinned at the artist, pleased he could make her understand. But his smile faded as he glanced back out the window to see a man who looked just like the picture Shaw had shown him of her ex-boss Hersh.

Taylor grabbed Grace's hand and stared dragging her towards the back door. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

"Wait, what? What's going on?" a confused Grace asked as Taylor yanked her off the couch.

She got her answer when two gun shots rang out, blowing out the electronic door lock, and the front door swung open to revel the glowering Hersh.

"Run!" Taylor yelled, pushing Grace towards the back door, as he moved intercept the Northern Lights operative.

Grace needed no further convincing as she turned and ran for the back door.

Jocelyn Carter's son stood in front of Hersh showing no fear. Taylor was no fool, he knew his odds of winning this fight were between slim and none, but he reasoned that he didn't have to win, he just had to keep Hersh busy long enough for Grace to make her getaway.

Hersh strode forward, taking a swing at Taylor without breaking stride. "Out of my way, punk," he snapped.

Taylor got the satisfaction of seeing the surprise on Hersh's face when he neatly blocked the bigger man's blow and delivered his own punch to Hersh's solar plexus. Hersh grunted, but the man was too used to pain to let a single body blow stop him.

"Not bad kid, but you're still out of your league," Hersh snarled as he delivered a blow Taylor's stomach that caused the teen to double over.

Hersh's hands closed over Taylor's throat and he ruthlessly began to squeeze the life out of the teen. _This is it, I'm gonna die on my first number_ , Taylor thought sadly.

Suddenly Taylor heard a shattering sound and Hersh let go of him. Taylor fell on the floor gasping and holding his throat. He looked up to see Grace standing over him holding the shattered remains of what had been a rather large and heavy porcelain figurine. Taylor realized that she had probably just saved his life. Hersh viciously backhanded her across the face and she dropped to the floor, dazed by the power of blow.

Hersh turned back to Taylor and reached for him, obviously wanting to finish what he had started, but the next thing Taylor knew Hersh was yanked away from him and went sailing across the room. A leg clad in black trousers stepped in front of him blocking his view of Control's henchman as he rolled to his feet.

"Taylor, take Grace and get out of here," John said in a voice that could have cut glass is it was so hard and cold.

Taylor was about to protest, but after one look at John's stone-cold face, he decided not to. Holding his throat. He wobbled to his feet and grabbed a still woozy Grace's hand, dragging her out of the room.

"We can't just leave him!" Grace protested weakly.

"Taylor," Finch's voice cracked in his earpiece making him jump. Taylor wasn't sure if he would ever get used to having Finch in his head all the time. "Help is on the way, Miss Shaw is en route."

"Finch says the cavalry is on the way. Let's go!" he told her as he dragged her out of the brownstone and down the street to the Lincoln as it sat at the curb. Taylor slid into the driver's seat while Grace fell into the passenger seat. "Finch I don't have the keys!"

"Just a second, Mr Carter." The Lincoln rumbled to life. Taylor stomped on the accelerator and took off down the street.

As the Lincoln squealed away from the curb, Grace turned to Taylor. "Who was that awful man?" she asked wide eyed.

Taylor glanced over at her has he negotiated the city traffic and winced at the sight of her split and swollen lip. "That's George Hersh, Shaw used to work for him when she was a Northern Lights operative."

Grace looked confused. "But I thought Northern Lights were the good guys? The ones who used the Machine to prevent terrorist attacks?"

Taylor shook his head. "They aren't the good guys all the time, and Hersh definitely isn't a good guy, he's the one who bombed the ferry that got Harold hurt."

"He hurt Harold?" Grace's voice was angry.

"Yup. Don't worry John will handle him," Taylor said with confidence.

Grace was quiet for a few minutes. "Taylor, take me to Harold, I need to talk to him."

* * *

John watched dispassionately as Hersh rolled to his feet. He heard Taylor and Grace leave, but he didn't turn his head to check. He knew better than to take his eyes off his adversary.

"It's been a while, Reese," Hersh and John stared at each across the living room. "Is the whelp yours? He put up a pretty good fight for a cub. Maybe I'll recruit him in a few years." Hersh smirked at him.

John didn't respond. Hersh liked to talk-as John recalled from their previous battle in the kitchen of the Coronet Hotel - and talkers usually would get frustrated when they didn't get a response. John was far too experienced to let Hersh get to him with talk of dragging Taylor into the intelligence service. John simply stared back at him, his face blank and emotionless.

Hersh stared grimly back. John could see him going over their last fight in his head, a fight that John won. Then Hersh got a nasty little smirk on his face and morphed in a very large Wolf.

John smiled back and morphed as well.

The Wolves faced each other across the living room. Hersh was rather bulky in his Wolf form, not unlike his human form. His fur was brown going to gray with a rough, unkempt texture. The brown eyes were still the cold and calculating eyes of the operative.

As if some invisible signal had been given John and Hersh surged forward at the same instant. They collided in the middle of the living room and both of them were knocked to the floor by the force of their collision. John bounced off the floor using his momentum to hit Hersh again, knocking the older Wolf into the coffee table, shattering it under his weight. The big Wolf was uninjured and he came at John again. Again the two Wolves collided, ripping and tearing at each other.

Hersh smacked John across the face with one of his massive paws, knocking John down to one shoulder. Hersh tried to rip at John's throat but John was too fast and agile for him. John twisted his body and regained his feet to come at Hersh again, ripping a hole in Hersh's haunch. Hersh kicked John in the chest but the Alpha wasn't deterred from his vicious attack. Relentlessly he pressed his advantage to grab onto the loose skin by Hersh's shoulder, plant his paws, and throw Hersh to the ground. He lunged at the operative, but Hersh managed to get his back paws on John's stomach to toss the Alpha off him before John could reach his throat.

John landed a couple of feet away, but he landed on his paws and rushed Hersh again as the big Wolf was trying to get back to his feet. Hersh grunted as John landed on him again, inflicting another savage bite. Hersh bolted down the hallway in a futile attempt to escape, but his wounds were beginning to slow him down, John easily ran him down and once again the two began tearing at each other.

The walls of the hallway were smeared with blood and covered with holes in the sheetrock from the violent clash. Finally John had Hersh, weakened by blood loss and tired from the prolonged struggle, pinned down. John looked down into Hersh's eyes to look for any sign of yielding, but Hersh remained defiant to the end. John lowered his muzzle to the Northern Rights operative's neck, ending his life with one perfectly placed bite.

* * *

Shaw raced into the safe house, gun drawn. With the eye of the experienced operative she swiftly took in the coffee table in pieces and blood on the carpet without breaking her stride. Gun at the ready, she followed the trail of blood until she came to Hersh's body in the middle of the hallway and an exhausted John, covered in blood, with his back against the wall, sitting next to it.

Shaw put her gun away and knelt down next to her Alpha. "How much of that blood is yours?" she asked as she checked him over. He had several vicious bites on his side and shoulder, but they would heal.

John smirked despite his exhaustion. "Less than half of it."

Shaw checked the bite marks that were already starting to heal. "Good thing Hersh wasn't rabid," she joked. "Where's your spare clothes?"

"In the Lincoln, which I'm pretty sure Taylor and Grace took."

Shaw snorted. "I better find a blanket so I can get you to my car. While I'm sure the women of New York would love nothing more than to see John Reese wandering around in his birthday suit, I'm pretty sure that Joss doesn't share."

* * *

Taylor parked down the street from the Library and cautiously led Grace to the side entrance. As they entered the building, Grace looked around at the dust and debris. She wrinkled her nose but said nothing.

Taylor led her up the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the stairs they turned and Grace saw Harold sitting at this computer typing. Bear gave a yip in greeting and ran to Taylor with his tail wagging furiously.

Harold looked up and saw Grace standing there starting at him. He turned in his chair with a surprised expression on his face, unsure as to why she would be there. His eyes cut to Taylor, looking for answers but the teen could only give him a small shrug in response. Harold's eyes returned to Grace, uncertain and scared of what she was about to say.

"I made a decision, Harold." She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm staying with you."


	7. Chapter 7

**There is more Wolf action in the chapter this chapter. (Note to elev, No not that kind of action!)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: A Confrontation with Control**

Two days later, Finch limped his way down the path in one of New York's many parks to a small duck pond. He paused to watch a youngish man as he tossed food to the hungry birds. Then he approached and carefully settled down next to the dark-skinned man on the bench.

"Mr. Legault?" he asked.

"Yes," the man answered in a soft southern drawl. "Mr. Martin?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

Legault looked around. "John Reese is over at 1 o'clock pretending to talk to Detective Carter. Sameen Shaw and Samantha Groves are over at the ice cream stand. Impressive effort by Shaw, I don't think I've ever seen anyone demolish a five scoop ice cream cone that fast before. The pudgy middle aged man hiding behind the sports section on the next bench is Detective Fusco."

Finch didn't act the least surprised by any of this. "You've done your homework, as I expected," he commented blandly.

Legault nodded. "I was the analyst assigned to your case. I've studied you and your team extensively."

Finch showed no emotion at this revelation. He had expected something like this; otherwise this man would not have known to leave a voicemail for him on his Universal Life phone number. "Whatever you want, I assure you, Mr. Legault, that if you attempt anything unwise, you will be dead in milliseconds."

The corners of Legault's mouth quirked up. "Don't worry, Mr. Martin. As I said, I've studied you and your people extensively, I am well aware of their capabilities. I have no intention of hurting you or any of them; quite the opposite in fact. I wish to ask you for a favor."

Finch looked over at Legault, unable to keep the loathing off his face. "Pray tell, why should I do a favor for the man who told the CIA about my fiancée?"

Legault hung his head. "I'm sorry about that, but I knew the Machine would warn you in time. I had a gun to my head; Control doesn't take kindly to failure as John Reese knows first-hand.

"I had actually known about you and your team for several months, but I had been stalling until I could find a way to contact you directly. Just as I was able to connect you to Universal Life, Control got impatient. When she gets impatient, people die. I was out of time, I had to give her something and when I considered the options, Ms. Hendricks posed the least amount of risk to the greatest number of people. Will Ingram is out of the country where you couldn't protect him. If I had given her Detectives Carter or Fusco, their children would have been in danger too. And if I had told her where to find Reese, Shaw or you, it would have blown your entire operation out of the water. You save a lot of lives and I couldn't destroy that."

"What would you have done if you miscalculated? What if we had not been able to save Grace?" Finch demanded, angry that the man next to him had reduced the people he cared about to a series of cold blooded calculations.

Legault finally looked up and looked Finch straight in the eye. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to her. I had already prepared a communication from Control to the black site in Westchester ordering them to release her unharmed."

Finch stared at the man for several seconds trying to decided if he believed him or not when his phone buzzed. He looked donw to see a new text message from an unknown number. _He's telling the truth_.

Finch's eyes went wide. "They would have traced the phony message back to you."

Legault nodded. "Yes. I would have gotten a black hood. But I was not going to let someone else die to protect my own life."

Finch understood. As much as he wanted to hate the man sitting next to him for putting Grace in danger, Finch also knew that he was as much a victim of Control's ruthlessness as Mr. Reese and Ms. Shaw had been.

Legault continued. "Thank Reese for me for killing Hersh. He did the world a big service there."

Finch took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired and the strain of the past few days was catching up with him. "Mr. Legault, Mr. Reese is fully aware that Mr. Hersh was a murderer and Control's lackey. Please, I am tired and I would appreciate it if you would come to the point."

"Sorry." Legault looked abashed. "I know about the Machine, and you know what happens to people who know about the Machine."

Harold looked down at his lap. "I know," he said softly.

"You and Samantha Groves have proven to be remarkably proficient in crafting new identities for people who are in trouble with the authorities and I want you make me one before Control decides that I'm no longer essential to her. In return, I can do you a big favor."

Harold raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"I can give you what you need to being Control down." Legault opened his hand to show Harold a flash drive. "I'm sure you've heard of Benghazi?" Harold nodded. "Control orchestrated the whole thing to kill the ambassador. He discovered that she was arming the wrong group of rebels in direct violation of presidential orders, so she engineered the whole thing to silence him. All the proof you need is right here."

"So that's why the information coming out the intelligence service that day was so confused at first, they were being lied to by their own people," Finch sighed.

"Yes, and that's only the beginning. This drive also has proof Hersh set the bomb on the ferry that killed Nathan Ingram under orders from Control. It also has proof of numerous other crimes against the American people committed in the name of 'keeping the country safe'.

"Control has everyone in DC cowed because she has the dirt on everyone. She's been running wild doing what she wanted, when she wanted all in the name of 'patriotism'." Legault spat out the last word like it an expletive. "She honestly thinks she's doing the right thing for the greater good and this is the only way to stop her. I've given you everything you need right here.

"I've also destroyed all my notes on you and your team. The CIA will not be able to find you, your fiancée, or your team without starting from scratch.

"So, will you give me a new identity? I'd like to be a teacher if you arrange it."

Finch looked down at the drive in his hand and a small smile formed on his face. "I think that can arranged, Mr. Legault."

* * *

Control's eyes snapped open when she heard the unfamiliar noise. She glanced quickly at her clock, 3:26 am. She huffed softly to herself; it was far too early for her housekeeper to be here.

Cautiously, she made her way towards the kitchen, following the source of the sounds. She entered the kitchen to see a tall man with salt and pepper hair rummaging in her cabinets. He turned around as she entered the room holding two coffee mugs in his hands.

"Good morning, would you like some coffee? It's fresh." He smirked at her, his silver blue eyes amused.

It took Control several seconds to recall the man's name. John Reese. Used to work for Mark Snow, should have died in the Ordos debacle, now working as some sort of vigilante in New York.

"Well Reese, if you are going to drag me out of bed at this ungodly hour, I might as well have some coffee." Reese poured her a cup and she settled down on a stool at the breakfast bar while he leaned against the counter.

Control's hand slid under the counter as she felt for the gun that should have been taped there, but she felt nothing. She heard a cough and she looked up to see Reese dangling the gun she had been looking for from his pinky by the trigger guard. She made a sour face and returned her hand to the top of the counter; aware she was completely at the mercy of the man in front of her, a man she had ordered murdered in cold blood several years ago.

"Are you here to kill me?" she asked calmly. She supposed she knew this day would come someday, but to be honest she thought it would be an enemy of the United Sates, not one of her own agents.

"Not if you do what I tell you." Reese sipped his coffee placidly.

Control raised an eyebrow. "Giving me orders now, Reese?"

Reese smirked. "I prefer to think of it as giving you options."

Control crossed her arms and lifted her chin slightly. Mentally she reviewed more information about the former agent leaning against the counter. He had been one of her best; inhumanly cool under fire and a brutally efficient killer. Smart and ruthless. He had to have killed or incapacitated seven agents and disabled the latest and greatest in electronic security just to get into her house. Perhaps she had made a mistake ordering his "retirement." Regardless, he now had her helpless, so she had better listen.

"I'm listening, Mr. Reese. What are my… options?"

"Option 1, you resign and go quietly into the night, never to return to the intelligence services."

She bristled. "And if I refuse?"

"That brings us to option 2." Reese placed a flash drive on the breakfast bar in front her. "On this device is evidence of your crimes against the US. There are over fifty copies scattered throughout the world. At the push of a button all the evidence will be delivered to the president, various key members of Congress, and just about every major newspaper and network.

"There will be no way you will escape prosecution and you will spend the rest of your life in prison. Your daughter will watch as her mother is branded as a criminal and a traitor."

Control snorted with contempt. "I'm the only thing standing between this country and chaos. You try to take me down I'll tell the world about all those deviants in the government. I can burn DC to ground. I'll also expose you and that renegade nerd you work for, you'll never help another person again. "

Reese simply smirked. "We thought you might say that, so let's discuss option 3; I kill you. I normally don't like depriving a child of her mother, but if you force me to choose between letting you live and the safety of my family and friends, you _will_ lose. You know my record, you know what I am capable of, and you know I _will_ kill you." Then he took another sip of his coffee.

"I'm not afraid to die Mr. Reese," Control snapped.

Reese cocked his head to side. "But why die if you don't have to? Why not live quietly and raise your daughter? Are you really going to let your pride go that far? Live for your daughter or die for your country, _Ma'am_."

Control shifted uncomfortably in her chair and didn't answer.

Reese set his coffee mug in the sink and checked his watch. "You have twenty-four hours to make your decision." He walked over to the door that led into the backyard, then paused and turned back to Control. "By the way, you may want to call a couple of ambulances. Your guard detail put up quite a fight and I had to get bit rough with them." He vanished out the door into the night.

* * *

After leaving Control's tidy suburban Virginia home, John drove straight back to New York and arrived home several hours later to find "Hair Day" in full swing. Joss had already washed Cali's hair and was in the process of carefully detangling with a wide toothed comb as John walked in. Joss sat on the couch while Cali was perched on the ottoman in front of her, engrossed in _The Lion King_ on the TV. Well, she was engrossed until her father entered the room. With a squeal of delight she leaped off the ottoman and ran to her daddy.

Though John was tired and bit sore from his fight with Control's protection detail, his face lit up and he scooped his baby girl up in his arms. Cali pulled her pacifier out of her mouth, gave her daddy a kiss and popped it back into her mouth.

Joss looked at him, her face solemn. "How did it go?" she asked carefully.

John shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "She was being stubborn, but she did pause when I mentioned her daughter." John hugged Cali tight and returned her to her spot on the ottoman. He sank down on the couch next to his mate, his eyes still on his daughter as Joss resumed her careful detangling. "I hope Control chooses her daughter," he said softly.

Joss set down the comb and picked up the bottle of leave-in conditioner. She squeezed a good amount out into her hand and then began working it into Cali's hair. "I do too," Joss said softly.

John was reluctant to say too much in front of their toddler. Cali was learning to talk and tended to repeat what she heard at very inopportune moments, such as the time she cheerfully repeated the string of expletives Taylor had let fly after losing a video game at a family dinner with Joss's mother, Alice. Fortunately Alice thought it was hysterical, but Taylor swore that the death glare his mother had given him took at least a decade off his life. With that in mind, John decided that discussing the possible demise of another person was probably best done when there were no little ears to overhear, so he watched quietly as Joss finished with the conditioner and moved on to the oil to seal the moisture in Cali's hair.

Joss then parted her baby's hair down the middle and began the laborious process of braiding the hair into a pigtail on one side. John moved to the other side and did his best to imitate Joss. His fingers, used to nimbly disassembling and reassembling all sorts of weaponry, actually did a very good job for his first time. Joss kept sneaking glances at her mate, amused by the intense concentration on his face as he focused on his task. Joss silently thanked God that their little cub wasn't very tender headed. She was grateful for the help, though. Hair Day was far too long and very trying on both mother and daughter, so Joss was happy for anything that helped cut the time.

Cali was sleepy once they were finally done, so John put her down for a nap while Joss made some soup and sandwiches for lunch.

"What do you think Control will do?" Joss asked as they sat down at the kitchen table.

John stirred his soup and shrugged. "She's tough, you don't get where she is without being hard as nails. But she has her daughter to think of."

Joss snorted. "The kind of woman who would order an entire ferry blown up to kill one passenger is not the kind of woman who will stand down just because someone told her too. What are we going to do when she doesn't go quietly into the night?"

"Then I kill her," John said simply.

* * *

John was restless that afternoon as he waited for word on Control's decision. Joss knew John didn't want to make good on his threat, but he would do what was needed to be done if Control forced his hand.

Finally, Joss tired of her mate's pacing. "We're going for a run," she said firmly, handling Cali off to Taylor. "We'll be back in a couple of hours," she told her eldest.

They drove to the park where they normally met with their pack. They walked to a little-used area in a back corner and hid behind the bushes to disrobe and morph.

Joss had always loved running in her Wolf form. With her heightened Wolf senses and a shape that was designed for running, it was a heady feeling to race through the park. It was as close to flying as one could get without actually leaving the ground. She reveled in the power of her Wolf side and ran wild. John smiled indulgently at his mate. It never failed to amuse him that the normally reserved Joss could be so uninhibited in her alternative form.

They both found relief in the physical activity as they ran side by side down the path. It was a perfect day for a Wolf run, and the sun felt warm on their dark fur as they ran. Passerby who witnessed the Wolves as they flew by could swear they were one creature as they raced around the park shoulder to shoulder in almost perfect synchronization. They zoomed around joggers, dog walkers, and people who were just out for a stroll on the sunny afternoon. They left the path and flew into the woods, leaping over bushes and fallen trees like they were birds instead of mammals. No communication was necessary between them to keep them in perfect sync as they dashed from one end of the park to the other and then back again. For a Wolf, nothing was better than running with your mate and John felt the tension leaving his body as he ran.

As they emerged from the woods onto a small lawn area, Joss pounced on her mate sending them tumbling in heap across the lawn. With a playful bark she was on her feet first, assuming a playful position with her front half down and her back half up. Her black fluffy tail wagged furiously. There was a huge smile on her Wolf face and she barked a playful bark at him. John got up slowly, as if he had been hurt. Joss immediately forgot her playful mood and moved towards her mate to see how badly he was hurt, but as soon as Joss got close enough to check John out, he pounced her right back. They had a playful tussle before once again racing back into the woods to find the spot where they had left their clothes.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed that little interlude before the feces hits the fan in the next chapter. Control will make her decision and it will some serious repercussions for the team.**

 **Yes, Legualt would have sacrificed himself to save Grace had it come down to that. He told Finch the truth, he was a good guy in very desperate circumstances. The text Finch received confirming Legualt's story was from the Machine.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Control has made her decision...bet you can't guess what it is from the title!**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: All Hell Breaks Loose**

The next day brought no news of Control's resignation, so Finch reluctantly pushed the button that released the news of Control's traitorous activities to the world.

Then all hell broke loose.

Numerous government officials who had been in a position to know about Control's illegal activities resigned under a cloud of indictments. Congressional hearings were called to investigate the extent of the corruption in the highest levels of the intelligence services. Foreign governments, both friends and foes, demanded answers from their American counterparts. Stock markets all over the world took a dive. The newspapers and TV channels had a news feeding frenzy that put Great White sharks to shame.

Control at first tried to ride out the storm by saying nothing publicly. She and her toadies silently worked back channels, charming and cajoling, and when that failed, threatening various government officials with exposure if anything happened to her. But the genie was already out of the bottle and all their ugly words fell on deaf ears. Nothing could save Control's position at the top of the Intelligence heap now.

The low point was when Control was unceremoniously escorted from the White House by several Secret Service agents with their guns drawn because she had the gall to threaten the President when he demanded her resignation. Shortly afterwards, a Northern Lights Black Ops team was sent to kill the family of the agent in charge of Presidential security in revenge and in a show of power. This did not end well for Control, the Machine alerted Finch in time to send Reese and Shaw. The Back Ops team never got close to the agent's family, walking straight into Team Machine's carefully staged ambush. Control woke the next morning to find her operatives' lifeless bodies neatly stacked on the front lawn of her house in a quiet suburb. She promptly went into hiding.

In the ensuing chaos, more than a few people associated with Control took desperate measures to try preserve their own careers, and Team Machine was forced to intervene in several cases when those desperate measures took the form of murder. Several days of chaos had passed before the team was finally able to catch their breath and meet to discuss their next move.

The team converged on a new safe house since the old one had been compromised. Finch had easily convinced Will Ingram to place his father's former residence on the market to give Will "a fresh start." Will had never liked the place so he readily agreed. It had been Finch who had been unwilling to let go of the other place since it was his last link to his old friend. However, after John's bloody death match with Hersh, Finch had to admit it had been compromised and was no longer safe. Hersh's body had been dumped in the East River, the damage from the fight was discreetly repaired, and the home was placed on the market where Finch projected it would make a tidy profit for Will.

The new safe house was just down the street from the Library, taking up the entire second floor of a building that housed a sushi bar, a photography studio, and a children's clothing shop on the street level. The building was old and a bit dingy looking, so no one would ever suspect it held the latest in anti-spying technology and a large luxury apartment. Of course it was untraceable back to Finch as he had carefully passed the deed through about seven different phony off shore property holding companies.

Team Machine had expanded since their last meeting. Cali had been left with Joss's mother for the day so Taylor could attend the meeting. The bruises on his neck were gone and he was eager to get back in the action. His brush with death had not deterred him at all, in fact, it strengthened his resolve. He was fully aware that had he not been there, Hersh would have dragged Grace off to the black ops site in Westchester county before John could have gotten to the safe house. He now felt confident that he could and would make a difference as a member of the team.

Grace was also present. Over the last several busy days, the team had gotten used to the sight of her by Finch's side. She was still new to their clandestine world and remained a bit wide eyed and timid, but she was making the adjustment as well as could be expected. Joss and John were now confident that she was in it for the long haul and accepted her into the team with no hesitation. Shaw was still not convinced, and a quietly promised to John that there would be dire consequences if Grace did anything to hurt Finch, but Joss was able to use her Alpha Authority to keep the diminutive operative from making any threats directly to Grace.

"Did you find Control?" Fusco asked Finch as he sank into the most comfortable sofa he had ever sat in. The luxurious sofa was welcome, between his duties as a NYPD detective and his work with Team Machine he hadn't slept more than a couple hours a night in a week. Fusco eyed Shaw sitting at the other end of the couch as he calculated the probability of being able to kick her off the comfortable piece of furniture and so he could stretch out for a long nap. She felt his eyes on her and turned to glare at him. He decided against it.

Finch nodded. "She's here in the city. She grew up in Brooklyn and she is hiding in an apartment only a couple of blocks from her old high school."

"Makes sense. Familiar enough for her to feel comfortable, but big city enough for her hide effectively," Fusco grumbled. "Do we go after her?"

"She doesn't seem to be doing anything other than living quietly. Perhaps she just wants to withdraw from public life as Mr. Reese requested?" Finch asked.

"No," Reese said quietly but firmly. "She's laying low, planning her next move."

"Where's her daughter?" Joss asked. "The poor kid isn't being affected by all this?"

"Nope," Shaw answered as she yawned widely. "After her little convo with Reese, she shipped the kiddo off to her sister in Iowa."

"What about the child's father?" Fusco asked.

Reese looked grim. "He vanished years ago, right after he filed for divorce from Control and asked for full custody. He was in the diplomatic corps and was supposed to have taken an assignment to Africa, but Finch can't find any record of him."

"So she had him offed," Fusco growled as he flopped his head back on the couch. "Figures."

Taylor's phone, which had been sitting on his thigh, buzzed. He looked down at the screen and exclaimed "Oh shit!"

"Language young man," Joss snapped.

"No ma, wait. I subscribe to news updates from CNN and listen to this one. 'Woman at center of Intelligence scandal to speak out'," he read. He tapped the phone to open the story. "She's going to go on national television to name names and spill secrets."

"She's going to burn DC to the ground just like she said she would," John growled. "None of our intelligence agents around the world will be safe if she starts talking."

"We're going to have to take her out," Shaw said. "Or she'll get a lot of people killed."

The room went quiet as everyone processed Shaw's blunt statement.

"Is she a danger to Harold?" Grace finally broke the silence.

Finch sighed. "That really doesn't matter…"

Grace cut him off. "Is she a danger to Harold?" Grace demanded again, looking directly at John for an answer.

John met her eyes. "Yes."

"Then she dies," Grace stated flatly while Shaw nodded her approval.

Harold turned towards his fiancée, taking her hand and gently kissing it. "Grace, it's not about us, or me. We can't just kill her in cold blood. It's the antithesis of what we do, we're supposed to prevent such acts."

"But we can't let her talk to the press," John said. "People will die. When you convinced me to take this job, you pointed out to me that all I ever wanted to do was to protect people. I have to protect innocent lives now." He looked over at Joss and Taylor sitting next to him on the couch. "I have to."

"It's murder!" Finch gasped.

"You don't have to help, Harold," Shaw said. "John and I will do what we have to; with or without you."

"Shaw, Joss and I all took an oath to defend this country from its enemies. Control is an enemy," John stated flatly. "I intend to fulfill my oath."

"As do I," Shaw growled.

Finch looked agonized "I can't be a part to this! This is against everything we stand for!" He turned to Joss who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "Jocelyn, surely you can't approve of cold blooded murder! Please, talk some sense into them!"

Joss looked from Harold to her mate's quietly determined face, and then back again. "I don't approve of murder, Harold, you know that. But in this case, I have to side with the greater good. Control cannot be allowed to do that interview and endanger lives in the intelligence service and the military. The stakes are too high."

Finch looked over at Fusco. "I have to agree, Finch," Fusco sighed. "This broad is a stone-cold killer. She tried to kill Wonder Boy and Batgirl over nothing, and now she's gonna say things that will get more people killed. We ain't got no choice."

Harold stared at Fusco as his words sank in. He looked around the room seeing all his friends' grim but determined faces. "I won't help you, I won't give you her address. Brooklyn is a big place, you'll never find her."

Shaw shrugged, "We'll just get her as she arrives at the studio then. It will be quick, I can promise you that."

Finch stared at her in horror. "Get out," Finch hissed. "I can't do this anymore, just… go."

"Harold…," John started to say, but Finch cut him off

"GET OUT!" He roared, then buried his face in his hands. "Please… just leave."

Somberly, the group got up and filed out of the safe house, leaving Grace with Harold. Taylor was the last one to exit, and he rested a hand on Grace's shoulder as he walked by. "Take good care of him," he said. Then he too was gone, and Grace was left alone with a distraught Harold.

* * *

 **Coming Friday, the last chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9

**This is the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who left me a review, you guys keep me writing! Once again I must shout out to my wonderful beta and friend, carolinagirl919 for all her help. I also have thank elev, OdalysOrtiz, PicsesChikk, jakela, crypticnotions, wolfmusic218 and nicdvidmaker for putting up with my whining and freakouts on Facebook. You guys are the best friends a gal could have.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Reconciliation**

A couple of days after the argument at the safe house, Joss lurked outside the studio where Control was to give the interview designed to bring down the US government and probably several other friendly regimes around the world. A crowd had gathered to see the woman who was about to name names, so she was able to blend in easily.

Joss stood there, trying to act just like any other curious on-looker. It took everything in her power to not look at the rooftop where John and Shaw were stationed with their sniper rifles, waiting for their prey.

She saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to see Grace making her way through the crowd towards her. Grace gave her a tentative smile.

"You didn't have to come," Joss said quietly. But she still smiled back.

Grace shook her head. "I needed to be here. This is my life now, I can't hide from it."

Joss took Grace's hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm glad you came. Does Harold know you're here?"

"Yes, he's not happy about it, but he understands my reasons." Grace looked over at Joss. "He understands your reasons too, he's just…having a hard time with it."

Joss nodded as she kept her eyes moving around the crowd, looking for any agents who might be lurking. "Have you ever seen anyone die before?" she whispered.

Grace shook her head and swallowed. "This is my first time. I guess it won't be my last."

Joss didn't say anything. She wished she could reassure the woman standing next to her to that she would never witness death and destruction again, but Joss knew that would be a lie as long Grace was with them. While Joss believed in the work Team Machine did with all her heart, she had no illusions about how death dogged every step they took. So she stood next to Grace, holding the red haired woman's hand for comfort as she waited for Control to appear.

It wasn't long before a limousine pulled up to the curb and Control, along with several body guards, climbed out.

"She's wearing body armor," Grace whispered, obviously concerned.

"It's OK," Joss whispered back. "She's still vulnerable to a head shot."

Grace looked at Joss with wide eyes and swallowed hard. "Oh," was all she could say.

They watched in morbid fascination as Control walked with her head held high in the middle of her group of bodyguards, like she wasn't on her way to destroy hundreds, possibly thousands of lives.

About halfway to the door, a shot rang out and Control's head exploded in a haze of red. Grace gagged and looked away while Joss watched the remains of Control fall to the ground, where it lay as a red stain rapidly grew under it. Joss then turned and led Grace away for the scene as chaos broke out.

"They did it," Grace whispered as they hurried away.

"No," Joss said grimly. "The angle was wrong; the kill shot didn't come from John or Sam. Someone else killed her."

Grace remained quiet until they reached the garage where Finch housed his small fleet of cars. Joss led Grace to her car, opened it and pulled a water bottle from the cup holder that she handed to Grace. The red head took it gratefully and sipped it.

"Are you OK?" Joss asked with concern as Grace sat down in the passenger seat.

"I will be," Grace replied, her voice steady. "But I'm going to be seeing that in my nightmares tonight."

"I know," Joss said softly. "I've seen similar scenes enough to know."

The door to the garage opened and Fusco pulled in next to them in his police cruiser.

"Any trouble?" Joss asked as the pudgy detective as he climbed out of the car.

Fusco grinned. "Nope. I just flashed my badge and they let us through the road block." He opened the trunk of the car and John and Shaw, along with two rather large guns, tumbled out. "They didn't search the car."

John stood up and rolled his neck. "We weren't the only ones there," he stated flatly.

"I know. Did you see who did it?" Joss asked.

"All we saw was a figure in black running away," Shaw said glumly. "Can't say I'm surprised, we weren't the only ones who wanted to keep her mouth shut."

Fusco snorted. "It could have been any number of governments, including our own, or another burned agent. Half the planet wanted that woman dead."

"We'll probably never know who it was," John said.

* * *

A week went by and still no one on the team had heard from Harold. Every morning John and Shaw presented themselves at the library at the usual time, but Harold's chair remained empty.

"That just means there's no number, right?" Shaw asked anxiously. "Finch wouldn't bag out on the numbers, right?"

John could only shrug, but he was worried too.

Joss and Grace met for lunch during the week and Grace assured her that Harold was fine, he just needed some time. Joss nodded and switched the topic to John's upcoming birthday party. Grace promised her that they both would be there.

The day of the birthday party was hectic for Joss and John. The entire Pack, along with Team Machine, was due over for lunch, cake and socializing. Wolves were very social creatures who never passed up an excuse for a get-together, and the birthday of the Alpha was one heck of a good excuse for a gathering. John would have preferred to spend a quiet day with his family, but as an Alpha the choice was not his. The pack expected a party and a party they would get.

Joss was busy helping her mother fix the food, but she was concerned about her mate as he restlessly prowled the apartment. Joss and Alice tried to distract John by coaxing him into helping with various prep tasks, but John was having none of it.

"John, he'll be here," Joss said.

John growled deep in his throat. "He hasn't been at the library since we argued."

Joss put her hand on either side of his face and held him so he had to look at her. "Grace said he just needed some time. He was upset, but he won't turn his back on you or the numbers."

John sighed and touched his forehead to hers. "I need my purpose." He paused and Joss could feel his distress through the mating bond. "I need to protect people, Joss."

"I know you do my love," Joss said softly. "This won't be forever. Finch needs the numbers as much as you do."

John felt a tug on his pant leg and he looked down to see Cali. She reached her arms up indicating that she wanted to be picked up. John couldn't help but smile when he scooped her up. She put her chubby little arms around her daddy's neck hugged him. John hugged back, tearing up a bit at this daughter's attempt to comfort him.

* * *

John should have known better than doubt his mate. Harold and Grace arrived with Harold's usual punctuality. While Joss and Grace hugged and exchanged pleasantries, John and Harold stepped away from the rest of the guests to a quiet corner to speak privately.

"I won't pretend to be OK with what you and Ms. Shaw were preparing to do, but I understand your reasons," Harold said. "Furthermore, I do not feel we should allow this…disagreement…to interrupt our work with the numbers."

John smirked. "It's good to have you back."

Harold gave John a small smile. "It's good to be back. I felt incomplete without our work."

"Me too," John confessed quietly.

"Good, then we are in agreement. I'll expect you tomorrow morning at the usual time."

Their quiet conversation was interrupted at that point by Little Cali, who had finally noticed that her beloved Uncle Harold was now in the house. She ran towards him squealing, "Book! Book!" She attached herself to Harold's leg and demanded to be picked up. John picked her up and handed her off to Harold who had a delighted smile on his face. He was every bit as fond of his goddaughter as she was of him.

"Of course I brought you a book!" Harold exclaimed. He carried the child to an armchair and settled in. He pulled a brand new, colorful children's book from his bag and began to read. Cali leaned her head against his shoulder and listened intently.

With a smile, John walked into the kitchen where Joss and Alice where laying out the food. "All good?" Joss asked quietly.

"Yes."

Joss gave him a brilliant smile. All was right with the world.

* * *

John and Joss were getting ready for bed before they had a chance to talk further. They had been too busy playing host to their party guests, then cleaning up after a successful celebration to have a conversation. But now the guests had gone, Taylor was in his room fighting the forces of evil on Reddit, and Cali had been tucked into her bed.

"So you're still gainfully employed?" Joss asked as she kicked off her shoes.

John pitched his dark socks into the laundry hamper. "Finch says he missed the numbers too."

Joss moved to help him unbutton his shirt. "And you're going to work tomorrow?" She kissed the hollow at the base of his throat as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

"Yessssss," John moaned. Joss ran her hands up under his undershirt and pinched his nipples.

John pulled her to him and smashed his mouth down on hers, all conversation forgotten. They undressed each other tenderly, placing plenty of kisses on various body parts as they were uncovered. Then he scooped her up in his arms and they tumbled into bed together.

John slid into Joss with a moan of pure pleasure. Slowly he began to move inside her.

"Oh yesssssssssss," Joss hissed. "Oh God, right there, right there!"

John increased the speed of his thrusts a fraction and was rewarded with mewls of bliss from his mate as she undulated below him. John looked down into her face and was rewarded to see a look of ecstasy on her face. He loved this woman, this She Wolf…

 _Tap, tap, tap_

He was pulled out of his moment of bliss when he felt tapping on the side of his head. He looked up to see a bleary-eyed Cali standing next to the bed sucking furiously on her pacifier.

He immediately deflated and stopped moving. He stared at his cub wide-eyed, unsure what to do next.

It took Joss a several seconds to notice her mate was no longer moving and she opened her eyes to look up at him. Seeing that John was staring at something next to the bed she followed his gaze to see her daughter standing there. Joss's eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open. She tossed John off her and rolled over on her belly to cover her breasts. "Hey baby girl," she cooed while John rolled off the other side of the bed and frantically pulled on his boxers. "What's the matter, did you have a bad dream?"

Cali nodded tiredly and held her arms out to her mother, but a now covered up John stepped around the bed and scooped her up. "How about we get you drink of water in the kitchen?" John carried her off to the other room to give Joss a chance to get her pajamas on.

They returned a few minutes later to find Joss in her usual sleeping attire of a tank top and sleep shorts. They tucked Cali into the middle of the bed and climbed in either side of her. John threw his arm over his cub and mate and watched fondly as they both drifted off to sleep.

John gazed at his sleeping family. Even with the unexpected interruption, he could not be happier than he was right at that minute. As his finger gently traced Cali's little nose that was so like her mother's, he silently swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

Even if it was murder.

Even if it cost him his purpose.

John pulled his finger away from Cali as she shifted in her sleep, then settled back down. With one final look at his family, John closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **AN: Has there ever been a set of parents who have not had a unexpected visitor during "adult time?" I'll include some smut in my next fic to make up for it.**

 **As for who actually killed Control, in my head canon it was a CIA assassination team, not unlike Reese/Stanton. Control made herself a threat to national security, so she had to go. Props to Regal1 for being the first one to point out in her review of chapter 8 that Control would have been a Relevant number. Of course the team has no way of knowing this since Harold's design kept the relevant and irrelevant numbers separate, so they would have gone ahead with their own plans.**

 **While Finch recognizes that violence is a necessary part of what the team does, he has always had a problem with killing people. I felt the team plans to deliberately assassinate someone, even someone like Control, would put him in a moral crisis that he would have a hard time working through. I felt like there had to be some conflict there between him and the rest of the team on this point to be true to everyone's character. I think he's managed to make peace with it since the intent was to save lives.**

 **Thanks for reading, and yes there are more fics coming!**


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